I can see the captain steering his ship into the unknown and uncharted waters madness and wellness.

Again, my mind has been blown. I did'nt think anything could blow me away. This one did the trick. It was the Titanic in 1937. It was the deck chairs, the game room, it was if it was built to specs of a art decko ship with all the emphasis on mental health. Your photography is the best. You make something that can be boring into something live from so many years ago. You are the best my man. My most respects, Johnny Mac, your admirer.

I'm absolutely amazed, it has stood still in time. I love that slouched old bastard leaning against the wall, is he a permenat part of the structure or is he just an another illusion of what was and shall never be again. I love it.

I love the many pilasters that this old gracious place was set up with. It gave it a little more elegance and enchanement than would have given in a lesser place.

These old radiators remind me of the times when I worked at NSH when I worried that I would be thrown into them by a crazed patient and coming out of it with second degree burn.

I can picture myself serving my clients a cocktali or two and listening to there stories of woe and experiences. These and those making me and integral part of there experience and my immortal soul.

Sends me back to me mom's day of the groovin moving 30's where art deco was king.

Sorta like the steamships of yesteryear. Plowing forward to the European shores for all the continental Americans of the 30"s.

It just blows my creative self away, Like Lynne, it almost makes me ill. How strange, how lovely. My goodness, I didn't think this kind of passion existed in the realm of living anymore. I shall return, I have dedicated myself more than ever.

It is so special art deco. It's romantic and so poinant I feel that this johnny had been there many years ago.

Looks like the deck of Titanic, I want to be there.

The porcelin is so great, blew me away. Won't find that no mo. This place was a business. By the by, NSH no longer exists. It has been leveled and all the spirits gone to wherever spirits go. Motts, what more can I say.

The theater of the absurd.

I had a client that used to be called Bobo when he was at the facility, and when he entered the community he still was referred to as Bobo. He looked the clown, but he just got stuck into the role that was designated for him from the big house.

How telling, how descritive, we are still the children.

Wow, Queen Anne did have a boyfriend. My goodness, he really is hung.

A victorian peice of cake with queen
Anne waiting in the wings. What time does the dance begin. Sweet.

Write it, what the hell are you waiting for.

Damm't Lynne, will you just write the godamn book and get it published. I mean, your just nickle and diming right now, get on with it, love.

How sad and meaningless, you know, why bother.

OOps. Excuse me , I got it wrong. My brain was into waterboarding. I know, I know, it was forboding. Hey give Johnny Mac a break.

How forbording. Talking about your basic warehousing. Who lived in the penthouse? It's bizzaroworld.

Two skelentons embracing each other waiting for the end of eternity that will never arrive.

Bounding down to the depth of darkness and emptiness.

These days after working the old dreamcastle for fourteen years, mostly nights, I find my dreams have been dominated by my wandering over the old grounds. It has captured me and refuses to let me go. Two or three night a week I dream of the old place like it's holding me captive until it's total destruction is final. The spirits continue to wander it's deathly , huanted deteriorating halls and won't be satisfied until the final question is answered, please release us. It's reminds me of one limb cut off at a time, no mercy to get it over with but only the time for the politicians and beureacrats to make there earthly gains and let the rest of die a slow death.